Love in Idleness
by Aleatory
Summary: Demetrius' love for Helena endures, though for her, the magic has faded. A vignette exploring the two characters of A Midsummer Night's Dream who remain under enchantment.


_A/N: A vignette written for school, because really, who purposely writes fanfiction for Shakespeare? _

_This is about the only pair of lovers who remained under a fairy spell at the closing of the play. After all, how long can magic last?_

_Aleatory_

**Love in Idleness**

It has been twelve years since the night in the forest, Helena realizes. She remembers it as one remembers a dream after waking, yet in her heart she knows it was no dream. Hermia and Lysander dwell within Athens, and sometimes it seems to her that the entire city revels in their love, while she languishes as a flower suffers if left in the full light of the sun.

She and Demetrius live outside the city— it was her desire and his strange aversion to people that brought them here. The first months were joyous: excitement and heat and love captured both their minds and mouths. Words played off his tongue as they did when he first spoke to her in the forest. Then more months passed and her belly swelled like the waxing moon, but still his language did not change. He called her Venus, Phoebe, and Diana. He likened her to the rising sun, the pale moon. Her figure was a perfect hourglass, set with the unchanging sands of time. Helena enjoyed his eloquence at first, but after their third child, the rhymes and poetry began to wear upon her weary ears, and the spark of elation she once used to feel when she saw him dwindled until it was no more than a dying ember.

Now she supposes he loves her, yet she cannot say if she loves him. His hair is graying, and wrinkles crease his skin. They crease hers as well, but it seems he takes no heed of them; he praises her as if she were still young.

"My dear, you seem to stand with such a heavy heart. Come, walk with me. I would have you challenge the sun with your brilliance." His voice is light. Can he not see the resentment hanging on her?

"I cannot. The children need tending to."

"The children will not have you in their sights forever, will they? Come, let the elder mind the younger."

So she stands, her faded brown dress hanging limply over her tired frame. He grins, and offers his arm as if she were some great lady. She takes it, only to humor him, and he leads her outside. The sun is bright, and the tall grasses brush against her skirts. He skips to the edge of the pond and bows low.

"Would you care for a sip, my fine lady?" he offers, beaming at her. "The water is cool and it would behoove you to drink some." His eyes sparkle with glee.

"No thank you. I shall fare well enough on my own."

"Ah, is it too low for my lady to bend down? Does she not want to soil her beauteous gown? Here, I shall raise the water to you." He dips his hands to the water and throws it skyward. The droplets rain downwards and splatter in her hair. He smiles again. "Diamonds for your hair. Though one might feel pity for the diamonds, for they must fight a battle with your eyes."

She says nothing to his flattery, but simply turns from him and walks toward the wood. Not discouraged, he follows and falls into step with her.

"Helen, you speak so little! Must I coax the words from your mouth? Hark; do you not hear that sweet birdsong? Sing, Helena, show the sky and air and earth your beauty!"

But she will not sing, and with her silence he also seems to grow subdued, watching instead of speaking and in this fashion he sees the flower. It sits solitary in the grass, and its glory outshines any wildflower he has yet seen.

"Oh Helena, my love, take this flower and set it on your ear. Gorgeous, is it not? But not as beautiful as my blossom!" He reaches out and plucks it from the earth, gingerly tucking it beneath her hair and behind her ear. She gives him a wan and weary smile.

"Ah! So I have charmed a smile from my Pandora, have I?" His eyes twinkle once more.

"Nay, you have but tweaked the fancy of Circe, and if you do not fly soon, she will have your hide." She is surprised at her own response.

"Then I'd best be careful not to be ensnared by her net of enchantments."

"Have you been visited by Hermes yet? If you have no magic herb, then one might think it would be wise to steer clear of the lioness."

"Ha! No herb was given I, but a flower!" And then he is silent, as if realizing something long forgotten and stares at her from the corner of his eye. He reaches up and strokes her cheek, feeling her wrinkled skin until his fingertips touch the corner of her eye. His face is pensive, as one's may be if they are trying to remember some vivid dream that has slipped from memory. Then it is past. He takes her hand in his and pulls her to the ground.

Lying on the earth she thinks of how they were like this many years ago. Of how he hated her then, how she begged him to be with her, and how he refused her every attempt at wooing him. Then the next morning he awoke and loved her, as if she had walked from waking into dreamland. It had puzzled her then, but she was too joyous in her victory that she took no notice of his sudden change of affections.

"Demetrius?"

"My ears pain me for want to hear your sweet voice."

"Do you remember that night in the forest before we were married? Why did you choose me?"

He pauses, his mouth forming a half-circle, like a miniature moon. Then he smiles. "Love knows neither rhyme nor reason. Your beauty fell upon me then, in the trees. "

She says nothing to this, only sighs and closes her eyes.

"Sleeping already, my love? How is it that such a short walk has tired you? No matter, how shall I rouse you from your sweet slumber? A fairy wand, perhaps? Yes, a fairy would have a flower for a wand, would he not?" And so saying, Demetrius plucks the flower from her hair and lets it dance across her eyelids.

Helena feels a strange sensation come over her. Where once she had lain here and wished Demetrius would cease his babbling and let her be in peace, now his voice falls upon her ears as warm sunlight caresses morning dew. She opens her eyes to see him leaning over her, smiling giddily and twirling a flower in his hands. A purple flower, with petals that form a heart, or perhaps an arrow.

"Oh Demetrius, how my eyes rest upon your face with the wonder of one who has wakened from a dream."

"Then what a dream it was, fair Helen, for if you have just wakened from it, then I have been living it for far longer."

"What a dream indeed, though it defied both the rules of love and logic."

"Love? I was not aware of the rules of love, dear Helena, and it seems to me that if dreams can be love, love can be a dream, can it not?"

"If this is such a dream, then it is most certainly one I have no desire to leave."

He laughs, and she smiles. The flower falls from his hand, and in their elation it is forgotten. A fairy wand. Cupid's arrow. Love-in-idleness.


End file.
